The Legend Continues: Remnants of Warfare
by WhyspertheDragoness
Summary: The aftermath of war always leaves much to be repaired. The dark magic used by Malefor's forces has infected the land itself, and Spyro is the only one who can cleanse the world. But he is still lost to all. Can the citizens of Warfang find their hero in time to save the world once more? Rated T for now, shouldn't get too bad but there will be adult themes.
1. Intro

**Author's note:**

I really like dragonoficeandfire's illustrations and explanations for the lore and information of The Legend of Spyro series. While the map isn't crucial to my story, I do think theirs is the most accurate and I use that as a sort of reference. Of course, I'm not drawing directly from their work and headcanon, but some things are similar. Please go check them out on dA and see their work, it has been a lifesaver for me, especially the species lore and map. I also want to note that this will probably be a very short introduction to the story premise. I'll try to update as often as possible.

 **Backstory**

Since the fall of Malefor, the city of Warfang has blossomed. Terrador, upon discovering the truth of Ignitus's demise, has taken over as the head of the council of elders. A new master of fire has yet to be found.

Several small villages of dragons have been found in hiding. The population of the city has grown and become more diverse, with dragons of every element and age moving in and helping the moles and manweersmalls to rebuild after the war. The remaining shadow, fear, and poison dragons have either been imprisoned or freed from Malefor's spell. Despite their newfound freedom, the corrupted dragons find themselves persecuted and forced to live in the slums of Warfang.

The corrupt dragons have elected a representative for the council, and as the search for a new master of fire continues, the council has selected three wind dragons to compete in an election to add a master of wind to the council as well. The wind dragons were previously a secluded race, but after near extinction, they realized assimilation was their only choice.

The search for Spyro and Cynder continues. Sparx helps as much as he can with mapping routes for search crews and sending out diplomats to speak to other species and clans, but it seems to be of no avail. Here is where our story begins.

 **Prologue**

The young earth dragon sighed and flopped his hindquarters to the ground, weary from hauling the packs full of crystals through the forest. He and several other earth dragons had been recruited for crystal gathering as they had an innate sense of where the crystals were. Of course, knowing where they were and hauling them back were two different things. The hefty packs were built for a dragon much larger than he, a full grown adult, not just an adolescent. But he had sworn to do his duty to the city, so carry them he would.

He grunted with effort as rose from his seated position, shaking himself and the bags. The crystals settled and, sensing another mana crystal nearby, he figured he could pack one more in without being too heavily laden.

As he grew closer to the crystal, he slowed, confused by the strange pulse he felt from it. The crystal came into view, seemingly normal. He shook his head and battered the crystal to pieces with his hefty horns, not noticing the creeping, deep red vines that had splintered and entered the center of the crystal itself.

Packing the small shards in his pack, he shook his head once more as a faint dizziness overtook him.

 _I'll see the medic when I get home,_ he thought. _I've probably just been in the sun too long._

He felt for the vibrations in the earth that indicated the direction of the city, and took off towards his towering home.

Terrador paced the outer wall of the city, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon. His tail twitched as he heard the light flutter of dragonfly wings.

"Well, Sparx? Any luck?" he asked gruffly, sniffing deeply as he turned to face the small, golden insect.

Sparx shook his head, eyes seeming weary and old. The journey alone had aged him. Despite still being an adolescent, he seemed almost as ancient as the elder dragons.

"No, the diplomats sent to the swamps and the floating islands reported nothing. It seems like they just vanished from the face of the world," he sighed. "I hope they're happy, wherever they are."

Terrador cocked a brow ridge and gave a mischievous smile. "Even Cynder?"

Sparx huffed and crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. "If she's with Spyro, I mean… I have to hope for the best for him."

Terrador laughed a dry, heaving laugh. He sighed, his mirth leaving him as soon as it arrived. His eyes grew more sorrowful as he looked out to the now-dormant volcano in the distance. The surrounding plains were coated in ash, just as the island of Munition's Forge had for four years. Both volcanoes seemed to be inactive. For Spyro's sake, Terrador hoped they were.

Sparx rested on one of Terrador's massive horns, shaking his head sadly. "I should've been there with Ignitus."

Terrador shook his head, nearly dislodging the small dragonfly. "No, Sparx, we need you. Ignitus wouldn't have wished for your sacrifice as well."

Sparx wiped away a small tear. "He was there with them, Ter. He was there when I wasn't."

Terrador peered up at him, offering what semblance of sympathy he could from that angle, and replied, "You weren't with them, which means there's one more creature who can search for them now. You didn't do anything wrong."

Sparx sniffed and nodded. "I guess you're right. Thanks."

Terrador nodded again, softer this time, and sat with him in silence.

"We can find them, Sparx. We have to."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Volteer and Cyril padded into the main hall of the council building, greeting the new council member and the three potential wind initiates individually.

"Ah, Searus, wonderful to see you once more," Volteer yapped brightly, greeting the hefty shadow dragon. It was clear he had been a battle-worn fire dragon before the war, and now wielded the element of shadow as a fierce black flame.

Searus nodded and grunted, his electric blue eyes a slit against the bright sunlight streaming in from the windows. "Better you than the rest of those judgmental bastards," he growled. "The citizens of Warfang continue to treat the cleansed dragons of my army with total disdain," he complained.

Cyril shook his head and sighed. "Unfortunately, it was the same with Cynder for the longest time. It took her disappearance for our citizens to understand her true nature."

Searus shook his head and looked at the potential initiates. "Is today the voting day?"

Terrador, with heavy steps, entered the room and answered Searus's question unknowingly. "Congratulations, Brynnlen, you have been voted to the final council seat. We hope you will represent the new wind dragon population with pride."

Brynnlen, a slender blue and grey female, bowed gracefully, her large wings draping like a cape behind her elegant form. "I will do my people and the citizens of Warfang proud."

Cyril turned to Terrador and posed the question no one had dared yet ask. "Do you think Searus will be enough representation for the cleansed dragons of the Dark Army?"

Terrador shrugged. "We will have to wait and see if the corrupt elements are inheritable. None of the cleansed dragons have bred yet. We don't even know if they can," he said softly, looking sheepishly at Searus.

Searus laughed drily and sat at the heavy stone table with the other council members. "I actually have an announcement. My mate and I are expecting a clutch of eggs… We were chosen to breed by Malefor himself, so we will get to see if my children inherit my… condition."

Volteer smiled broadly. "That is wonderful, tremendous, amazing news, Searus! We are all very happy for you."

Searus smiled back, his eyes glowing bright with happiness. "Thank you all. We are blessed to be here. The ancestors really did look after us all."

* * *

The adolescent earth dragon reached the walls of Warfang that same morning. He had slept out in the woods the night before, his aching feet forcing him to stop.

His throat was on fire. His first thought went to dehydration. He needed to get home, as he hadn't packed enough provisions. The dizziness was getting worse, and now he was seeing faint red spots dance across his vision.

He must really be sick, he thought. But how? No one else in the city had any symptoms of illness. He supposed he must be allergic to some of the plants in the woods around Warfang, as he came from Tall Plains. Ironic, that an earth dragon would be allergic to nature.

He hailed the mole on the wall, shouting his name and job to be allowed entrance to the city. As the doors opened, he smiled in relief, and as his paws crossed the threshold, he collapsed.

Terrador's head perked as he felt the vibrations of many feet running to the gate of the city, interrupting him as he discussed politics with the council.

"What is it, Terrador? Should we be concerned?" Cyril inquired haughtily, annoyed at being interrupted.

"Yes, I believe there is a disturbance at the gate. We should go investigate," he announced, standing quickly and pacing outside.

The rest followed, and their footsteps quickened as they saw the mass of dragons and moles clustered around the still-open gate.

"Move, move, get out of the way," Terrador shouted, bounding through the crowd, his hefty tail a deterrent to creatures who still wanted to crowd the collapsed form of the adolescent dragon.

Terrador shielded the dragon from the crowd, inspecting him.

"Does anyone know what happened to him?" he asked, peering at the crowd.

A small mole stepped up, adjusting his goggles. "Sir, I was on the wall when he came back. He is a crystal gatherer. He was a bit wobbly on his feet, I think he was over encumbered by his large pack." He gestured to the spilled crystals around the dragon, pointing at the sheen of sweat on the dragon's brow.

Terrador frowned and used his life sense, a skill only accessible by masters of the earth element, to inspect the boy. "There's something wrong. He's ill." His eyes widened and he shouted at the crowd to get back. "Did anyone touch him?!" he roared, panicked.

Three smaller adult dragons looked around sheepishly, and nodded.

"Get yourselves to the medic now. Tell her to set up a quarantine until we figure out what this is. Since you already touched him, you three carry him back. Does anyone know who his family is?" Terrador asked, looking around once more.

A small female earth dragon with large eyes and even larger wings stepped up. "Um, sir… His parents died in the war, but he has an older brother. His name is Nazarus and his brother is Vyne."

Terrador nodded at her. "Can you fly fast?" he asked.

She simply nodded.

"Go. Find him. Tell him his brother is ill." She nodded once more, taking off from the crowd. Terrador looked at the retreating figures of the contaminated dragons, the crowd splitting to allow them access. He hoped this was nothing serious.

Of course, his hope could not quash the sense of dread he felt, deep inside himself. Where was Spyro?

* * *

That evening, Sparx was sent to check up on the welfare of the dragons. The medic greeted him, her soft face betraying her worry.

"Lotus, is everything alright?" Sparx asked, peering inside the quarantine building.

She shook her head. Her lilac eyes were weary. "I have tried all I can to diagnose and treat the source, but I cannot figure out what the illness is. It's like nothing I've ever seen." She gestured for him to follow. "Don't touch any of them. The others aren't exhibiting symptoms yet, but that doesn't mean they can't transmit the disease."

He nodded, fluttering close to the spines on the back of her neck. Her tubular horns channeled the air, making a flute-like sound.

When they drew close to the young dragon, Nazarus, he felt an imposing sense of darkness. He swallowed his fear, peering at the dragon's face. What he saw there chilled him to his very core.

"That's dark magic," he whispered. Nazarus's face was covered in blocky swirls of deep, blood red. It resembled the swirls one could see in the dragon temple, and even more so the patterns he had seen when he accompanied Spyro to the Chronicler's lair. They seemed to emit a darkness, almost as if casting a creeping, vine-like shadow.

Lotus looked at Sparx with worry. "That's what I was afraid of. I have no idea how to treat him," she said softly. "I'm afraid… He won't make it."

Sparx winced and ran a hand over his antennae, the other on his abdomen. "We need to find Spyro, and fast…"


	3. Chapter 2

Author's note: These first few chapters are turning out to be quite short, but the action will hopefully pick up soon. I'm trying to let the story flow at its own pace because I have a history of getting bored and rushing things. Please let me know what you think! Also, I'll probably be making a new Tumblr blog or adding character sketches to my dA account soon, so I will provide the url for that as soon as it's up. Final thought: I am aware I am ending each chapter on an annoying cliffhanger, each one pretty similar to the last. I will probably go back and revise this at some point, because yes, it's annoying me too.

 **Chapter Two**

The scent of grass in the wind and wildflowers awoke Spyro as the sun broke through the heavy clouds surrounding the floating island. He stretched and yawned, padding out of the cave to search for Cynder, who had gone out to search for other island clusters in the night.

Finally, her dark form blocked the sun, landing by Spyro in the fluffy grass. "Sleep well, Spyro?" she asked, greeting him with a nuzzle.

He nodded. "Any luck finding out where exactly we are?"

She sighed. "No. There are so many floating islands now… Your magic seemed to fix the earth, but not repair it completely. As far as I can tell, we're in the middle of one of the oceans. Unless those changed too," she muttered.

He looked out at the other small islands in their own personal cluster, stretching his wings. He looked thoughtful.

"Spyro, what are you thinking?" Cynder asked, her voice wary.

"Nothing, I just…" He sighed. "I want my strength back. This is the second time I've lost access to my powers and it's… frustrating to say the least."

She nodded. "I know, Spyro. But until then, you have your claws to protect you, and I have my elements, so at least we're safe."

He winced and nodded in return. "I suppose you're right. We have to get back to the city soon though. It's been months and we still haven't figured out where real land is."

Cynder sat and thought for a beat, looking out at the small crystals on one of the smaller islands. "Maybe… Maybe if I use my wind, we can glide long enough to keep us rested and we can reach land. If we can find any larger land at all, then we can figure out where to go from that."

Spyro contemplated her idea. "What if we're close to land on one side and then we fly another direction and end up flying twice as far as we have to?"

She frowned. "Well, that's just a risk we'll have to take. I've been scouting every direction for months now. Do you really think I wouldn't have found something if we were at all close to land I would've found it?"

He grimaced at her tone, knowing he hurt her feelings. She had been flying almost nonstop every day and night for far too long, as Spyro's strength had left him almost entirely after he repaired the world. "I'm sorry Cynder, you're right. I guess that would put us in the middle of the ocean. We can use the sun to figure out which way to fly."

"If we could figure out which ocean we were in, that would work…" Cynder replied. "But we have no idea if we're on the east or west side of the continent."

He growled in frustration, smacking a rock off the side of the island with his paw. "Damn it, why couldn't we just get thrown out right next to the volcano?"

She shrugged, her eyes sad. "Well, maybe the ancestors knew it was the only way to save us. The volcano was erupting after all."

He sighed once more and bowed his head, a single tear rolling down his muzzle. "…you're right."

Cynder draped a wing over his shoulders, pulling him close. "I love you Spyro. We're going to get through this."

He nodded, snuggling close to her. "You're my best friend, Cynder. I don't know how I'd do this without you." He closed his amethyst eyes, letting her warmth surround him. The butterflies in his stomach danced, and he smiled, knowing that at least he had her by his side. He had to wonder though. Was this love? Or was he confusing his friendship for a different type of closeness?

* * *

Terrador's thick muzzle pushed aside the canvas flaps of the quarantine tent, eyes searching for Lotus as soon as he entered. She was attending to the young dragon, Nazarus, her paws glowing with green light. She was using the energy to avoid touching him directly, the earth pulses allowing her to investigate the effects of the illness on the poor dragon's body.

She gestured at Terrador with her tail to tell him to come in without turning around. "Please, Terrador, come take a look at this. He's just getting worse, no matter what herbal remedies I've tried. Magic doesn't seem to be helping either."

He stood for a beat, watching the elegant dragon work. Her legs were shorter than most, but her long, elegant neck and tail balanced out her height. Her pale green scales shone under the light from her slender paws, illuminating every ridge and fluid muscle. The flowers and vines interwoven with her fluffy fur crest almost twinkled with magic, and the hollow segments of her horns seemed to always produce a gentle, flute-like sound. He marveled at her calm nature in the face of this unknown disease.

"What symptoms has he developed?" he asked, padding up beside her shoulder. She breathed deeply and turned the small dragon's head.

"It started in his eyes," she said, gesturing with one slender claw to open Nazarus's eyelid. "I thought it was blood at first. The swirls almost look like what we saw in the temple, do they not?" she asked. She turned his head, tilting it back to reveal his throat. "The pattern expanded from his eyes onto his face, following the cracks in his scales. I fear that… once they reach his chest, he will die. The disease will infect his heart. I'm not even sure he will recover if we CAN find a cure."

Terrador inspected the strange pattern, using his life sense to detect how far the sickness had infected the young dragon. "And none of your healing abilities have helped?"

She shook her head, laying Nazarus down gently and dusting off her paws. "I am afraid only some truly extraordinary power could fix this."

Terrador looked around at the other sleeping forms on the cots around him. "Have the others started developing symptoms?"

"Yes. Two of them, the weaker of body, have complained of dizziness. Their eyes have started to glaze, and some are somewhat pink. I am afraid we have two more days before the blood spirals begin in them as well."

He grunted and stood, walking to the entrance of the tent. "All we can do is keep trying, Lotus. Perhaps ask a poison dragon to assist you in your attempts to find an antidote?"

She perked up. "That is a wonderful idea, sir. Is there any way I could speak to Searus to determine the most skilled of them?"

He thought for a moment. "We have a daily council meeting, so if you were in attendance in the morning, you could ask him then." He smiled. "You're doing great work, Lotus. I'll see you tomorrow."

He padded outside, his smile slipping. Despite his attraction to her, his fears kept him from even thinking about romance. His people were in danger. The purple dragon was gone. The city, divided.

He had to find Sparx. They had to come up with a plan in case Spyro never returned. Perhaps sending a scouting party to the corrupted lands would provide some clues. The dark magic that still tainted the land should allow them to research the cause of the vines growing in the forest.

Perhaps it would even give them some clue as to what happened inside the volcano. What had happened to Malefor, why the world hadn't shattered when the Destroyer completed its circle around the world, and where Spyro and Cynder had ended up. If they were even still alive.


	4. Chapter 3

Author's note: I know this update is later than most, but I had some writer's block. Introducing: Slyther! Hunter makes an appearance as well, but shhh it's a surprise. Also, more Spryo and Cynder heavy content. Please, leave a comment and let me know what you think!

 **Chapter Three**

Spyro stretched his wings in the dimming light, the sunset illuminating the islands. He rubbed his sore shoulder, looking for Cynder. His head rose as he spotted her gliding back from the furthest island out.

"So, exercises complete," she shouted to him from the sky, "how're you feeling?"

"Sore," he sighed, "but good, I suppose." He shook himself, flexing his wings. "I think we can leave tomorrow if you bring extra crystals."

She landed beside him heavily, shaking the dust off her scales. "Get some rest, Spyro. I can gather the crystals myself, and I'll come sleep after I'm done."

He nodded and went inside the cave, watching her as he lay down. His thought stayed on the sight of her nimble form flying away once more as his eyes shut and he drifted off to sleep.

As Spyro slept, he dreamed. He dreamed of ash and fire, the remains of the scorched lands of the warzone. As he looked around, despair filling his heart, he heard footsteps behind him.

"Spyro, it is good to see you again," a voice said.

Spyro gasped and spun around. "Ignitus!" he shouted, running towards his old mentor. He collided with Ignitus, hugging his thickly scaled chest and sobbing into his… cloak?

Ignitus smiled down at him, returning his hug. "I am so glad to see you safe, young dragon."

Spyro looked up at him, his tear stained cheeks leaving spots on the blue and gold cloak draped around Ignitus's form. "Why… I thought you died. Why are you grey?" His eyes became puzzled, staring up at the strange new color of Ignitus's scales.

"Well, young dragon, the dawn of a new era is upon us. A new Chronicler had to be chosen, and I was deemed worthy," he explained.

"What happened to the old Chronicler? Is he dead?" Spyro asked, concern overcoming his gaze.

"He has become one with me, as the Chronicler before did with him. I now contain the knowledge of each Chronicler before me, and I can speak to their spirits in a meditative state."

"Huh," Spyro said, overwhelmed by the events taking place in front of him. "I'm just glad you're… alive, if you still are."

Ignitus nodded. "I am," he said. "While the Chronicler exists on a different plane than live dragons, I do have a physical form, just like the Chronicler you met. The Celestial Isles still house my archives."

"You even speak more like him now," Spyro mumbled, his head drooping as he sat down. "I miss you, Ignitus."

"I know, young dragon," Ignitus sighed. "But you will persevere. Right now, Warfang needs you. Cynder's plan will work. Fly to the west, there you will find the island of Munition's Forge. From there, you can travel back to Warfang."

"Thank you, Ignitus," Spyro whispered, a tear dropping from his muzzle. "I hope I'll see you again soon."

Ignitus nodded, placing a paw on his shoulder. He lowered his head to look Spyro in the eye. "The ancestors will look after you, as they have looked after us all." He smiled, touching his muzzle to Spyro's forehead. A glowing light overtook Spyro's vision, and with that, he woke up.

In the back alleys of the slums of Warfang, a grey dragon paced. His graphite scales were dull in the light from the twin moons, his curved horns swinging as his talons clicked on the cobblestones. His head jerked up, the almost featherlike spines on his crown bristling as he looked towards a door that had opened out into the alley.

"Hey," a voice whispered at him. The cheetah that had stepped out of the building gestured for him to come inside.

He nodded and walked inside briskly, head down. He walked everywhere like that.

"So what are you looking for this time?" the cheetah asked, closing the door and crossing his arms. His face betrayed wariness and frustration, his voice tight.

"The clients need more of the dark crystals," he said, sighing. He rubbed a paw over his eyes. "The dragons they're holding won't survive without them."

"I don't understand why you're helping them," the cheetah said. "The city has a program set up to cure the dark dragons."

"You don't understand!" he growled. "They will kill them. These dragons can't be saved by the council's methods. But they have families that want to see them alive. If I just have more time…"

The cheetah sighed. "Slyther, if the council finds out I'm helping you…"

"Hunter, I know it's risky," he said, eyes pleading, "but these dragons need help. If we can get them weaned off the dark crystals, then they can get into the council program and they will be fine."

Hunter sighed once more, the soft breath turning into a growl of frustration. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. I don't have any now."

Slyther nodded and let his wings fall to his sides. "Thanks… I know this is hard. It's… it's all I can do here now, since everyone hates us."

Hunter nodded. "I know. Shadow dragons especially get a bad rap."

Slyther looked away guiltily. "It's not like we don't deserve it."

Hunter glared at the floor. "That's not true. If Spyro and Cynder were here, they'd explain things. They know what it's like to fall prey to Malefor."

Slyther puffed a small smoke trail of shadow, nodding furiously. "I never got to meet them. I always wanted to meet Cynder, to learn how to properly control my new… element."

Hunter chuckled a bit. "She's a handful alright. I fought with them before the Dark Master was taken down. She and Spyro bickered like Cyril and Volteer."

Slyther smiled a bit. "I wish I could talk to them more too. I heard Searus made council. He's shadow, but his mate is poison. They're real leaders in our community."

"I bet if you talked to Searus, he could get you an audience. I could put in a good word too," Hunter offered. "I'm sure they'd love to hear how all the new dragons are… adjusting."

Slyther grimaced. "I wish I could give them good news then." He stood, walking to the exit. "I'll see you when you're ready for me, Hunter."

Hunter nodded, opening the door for him. "I'll signal for the crystals. Hopefully I can get you an audience soon," he said, smiling. "Don't stay out too late, Slyther."

Slyther's spined tail swept the ground as he left, disappearing into the shadows of the alleys.


	5. Chapter 4

Sorry it's been so long guys! I really want to upload more, but I started classes again recently so it's hard to keep up with things. I'll be writing a buffer and drawing some new headshots and character sheets to the tumblr ( .com just to remind you!). I'd really love it if you could give me some feedback in the comments, and if you like it, give it a follow! I'm very committed to finishing the story this time, so please, stick with me!

 **Chapter Four**

Sanguinem plicata. Blood spirals, cracking and spreading through the scales of the adolescent earth dragon's face. They had reached his jaw, and Lotus feared they would soon spread down his neck. The spirals started out on the surface, but as they spread, they seemed to etch deeper into the scales. The markings in his eyes remained superficial, however… the crack that marred his browridge had begun to drip blood.

After seeing it, Lotus used her healing magic to stem the bleeding. His brow glowed with a faint green light from her spell. She had been using tendrils of magic to try and dig into his very cells, attempting to root out the cure for the disease. Other crystal gatherers had reported seeing the strange vine growths inside several wild growing crystals near the remnants of the warzone. Two more had accidentally broken them open, and were experiencing the same rate of progression as Nazarus.

Terrador's heavy footsteps broke her free from her thoughts, and his heavy horns sweeping the canvas of the tent flap aside was a welcome sound among the raspy breathing of the near-comatose patients.

He placed a gentle paw on her shoulder and her wings collapsed around her, her head falling nearly to the ground. She shuddered and a tear dropped from her slender muzzle.

"We will save them, Lotus," Terrador murmured. "We have mole engineers working with dark crystals to attempt to derive a medicine for the disease."

She nodded softly, her usually full and fluffy mane looking limp, falling to the side of her neck. "Don't let dragons near them. As far as I can tell, the dark dragons were turned by prolonged exposure to those crystals."

He nodded. "We had assumed as such. The manweersmall miners are working to find more crystals, and all dragons have been shown images of what the infected crystals look like. We are doing the best we can to contain it," he assured her. "No one else has reported even having so much as the sniffles."

She sighed and straightened up, her wings rushing through the air as she brought them up behind her. "Good. Keep up the good work, Terrador, and maybe, just maybe, we'll find a solution to the madness."

With that, he nodded and exited the tent. He wondered if, among the crisis, any sort of romantic pursuit would be appropriate. He wasn't sure if he wanted a mate, but if he did, he would choose Lotus. She was kind, caring, compassionate, and fiery enough to take charge when need be. She was an impressive dragoness.

* * *

Spyro woke Cynder quickly, shaking her by her shoulders until she snapped at his paws. "Cynder, please, wake up. We need to talk," he yammered urgently.

She groaned and lifted her head, eyes mere slits against the light of the sun. "Spyro, I was just in the middle of the best dream I've had in a long time, so this had better be important."

He nodded quickly. "I had a dream too. I spoke to Ignitus."

Her eyes widened and then quickly shut again. "Ow. Ignitus? But he… He died."

"I thought so too," he said, "but instead, he's been made the new Chronicler. He told me which direction we need to fly – Munition's Forge is the closest peninsula, and from there, we can get back to Warfang. All we have to do is fly west," he stammered excitedly.

"Oh… I was going to suggest that, but it was really just a guess," she chuckled. "Is there… Is there any way we can see him again? Ignitus, I mean."

He shrugged. "If the planes still converge, we should be able to find him in the archive in the Celestial Isles. I've been there before," he explained. "But we should find out how everyone is doing in the city first."

She nodded. "I'll load up on crystals and we can go. Sound good?"

He smiled and nodded in reply, quickly flying to the nearest crystal outcrop to begin gaining strength.

* * *

The sky was studded with fluffy clouds, partially obscuring the view of the crystalline ocean water below. Spyro's wings ached from disuse, and his breathing was harsh. They were less than an hour into the flight.

"Cynder, can you swim?" he shouted to the nimble dragoness. She seemed to be having no problems whatsoever.

She nodded, but laughed. "Spyro, I can help you, remember? Just glide."

She channeled a gust of wind under his wings, suspending him in a channel of air. He sighed in relief, noticing how strong her magic was. "Are you sure you can keep this up?" he asked, concerned.

She simply nodded again, conserving her breath. He knew she couldn't hold him forever, but it was a welcome reprieve. By the time her magic was exhausted, he could fly again, and they would make it a while longer.

Cynder's magic ran out by midday. Spyro's wings were well rested, and they flew for another hour before they first spotted land.

"Cynder, do you see it? The volcano!" he shouted. "We should be careful flying around it."

She peered into the ocean. "Um, Spyro, we have to fly as long as we can. The water is… boiling."

He looked ahead to the ocean in front of them, and gasped when he saw the bright lava pouring out into the waves. What didn't solidify was steaming off the surrounding water, and it was clearly unsafe to touch.

"I wonder if landing is such a good idea too," Cynder groaned. "Readjust and fly a bit north?"

Spyro thought for a bit and nodded. "If I had my powers back, I could get us through safely… but until then, you're the boss," he laughed.

She chuckled and summoned her last bit of reserve magic to boost them north, away from the flow of lava from the mouth of Boyzitbig.

* * *

Hunter's gentle footsteps among the bustling streets of Warfang allowed him to slip by the crowds virtually unnoticed. His mission was simple: pay his contact in the mines to slip some of the dark crystals away and deliver them to a secret cave in the ruins below the city. They were blocked off, but unguarded since the war, and their caverns and catacombs were perfect for housing unstable dark dragons.

He was not nervous, but he was a bit worried about the consequences of his actions. He hoped Slyther was right, and that the crystals would help the dragons detox and heal. They needed more citizens, plus, any life that can be saved, should, in his opinion.

The gate to the tunnel leading to the mines squeaked when he pushed it open. Several moles rushed by him, nearly tripping him, as they hustled bags and satchels down the tunnel. They were carriers, not efficient in digging, but larger than the manweersmalls who headlined the project.

He wondered what it was ages ago that forged the powerful alliance of the moles and the dragons. His people, the cheetah clans, had always been nomadic tribes, building small villages in winter for the old, the sick, and the children, but wandering in the spring and summer seasons. They had no ties to other societies, but they did trade often with anyone who had supplies.

Hunter himself had always wanted more. He was a diplomat, fascinated by the draconic race and the lands surrounding their continent. Prowlus had disapproved, but allowed Hunter lenience due to his heritage. His near-royal bloodline had always allowed for a bit of wiggle-room.

He was snapped from his reverie when he arrived at a convergence of tunnels, leading off to the various parts of the mines. The moles had constructed a central room, similar to the design of the buildings in Warfang. It was beautiful, and showed the moles' excitement over the end of the war. Such extravagance was not allowed in times of rationed metal.

He padded down the leftmost tunnel, ear tufts brushing the roof as he listened intently to the scampering of tiny feet.

"Grundler, are you here?" he murmured, whiskers twitching at dampness in the air.

A loud grunt from a bend in the tunnel confirmed his instincts. "Hunter, 'bout time you showed." He adjusted his goggles to read the command list he held under the dim lamplight above them.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he sighed. "I worry about what the elders will think if they discover my plan. Ignitus was the only one who really trusted me," he said sadly.

Grundler shook his head, his pointed nose wrinkling. "If you just explained it, you wouldn't have to sneak. Lotus would back you up, she's seen the effects of heavy withdrawal."

Hunter cocked his head, thinking. "She has an in with Terrador as well… perhaps you're right. After this round, I'll speak to her."

Grundler nodded and grunted in affirmation. "I need the payment, and then the crystals will be delivered, as promised."

Hunter fished a twisted piece of scrap out of his bag. "Is this the kind of metal you were looking for?"

Grundler nodded. "Not the most interesting payment, but I need it for my experiments. And since your clan still has Avalar on lockdown, you're the only one who can get it to me. We've only found it in the mines there and in Tall Plains."

Hunter nodded. "We have plenty to trade. We use it for small parts on weapons, since it's soft, but it's going to waste in our stores." He turned to exit. "Please make sure to be discreet… I don't want word to get out before I speak to Slyther and Lotus."

Grundler scoffed. "Can't believe you're workin' with a shadow dragon, mate. Be careful," he warned.

Hunter simply shook his head and walked away.


End file.
